


to make another start

by leighbot



Series: there's seldom a second time [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fix-It of Sorts, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 22:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10931694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leighbot/pseuds/leighbot
Summary: The letter isn’t addressed to anyone by name, just the house number and no return address. The letters are a little smudged but the handwriting looks familiar. Puzzled, Zayn breaks the seal and pulls out a single sheet of notebook paper, more of the familiar scrawl filling the lines.“Oh my god,” he says under his breath. He touches the messy swish of the ‘Z’ in his name with his pointer finger as he reads a letter he never thought he’d see.Or, the one with the lost letter.





	to make another start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yendroid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yendroid/gifts).



> A thousand years ago today (yesterday), a lovely, lovely soul wrote me such a perfect comment on 'it only happens when i dance with you' that I burst into tears, proposed marriage, and then bullied her into being my friend. Happy anniversary!
> 
> Title for the 'series' and for this addition from 'Better Luck Next Time' from _Easter Parade_.

PREVIOUSLY:

_“What was in the letter?”_

_Harry laughs and shifts under him, his chest rumbling as he moves. “I mean,” he starts, voice low in the quiet of the room, “most of it’s on the album.”_

_“What isn’t?”_

_“That I love you. That I’ve always loved you. I wrote that I would sell my house in LA, I would give up everything- honest, I would- if you’d call.” Zayn bites his lip, guilt flowing over him in waves as Harry continues. “I waited for your call for so long, and I would have waited for the rest of my life probably.”_

 

 

 

“Baba, are you home?”

Zayn takes his glasses off, setting them down on the desk in front of his computer before rolling back in his chair and standing. “I’m home, Rosa,” he calls back as he walks out of his home office. He looks at his youngest child when she comes into view, cataloguing all of the ways she’s changed since he’s seen her last. Her junior year at UCLA had seemed like it’s lasted a decade, already, and he has seen her too little for his liking.

She looks great- tan and smiley with her auburn hair in a loose knot on her head and the ridiculously expensive sunglasses her father bought her for Christmas perched on her nose. She pushes them up, not caring if they mess with her fringe, and takes the last few steps between them at a jog until she can wrap her arms around Zayn. He holds her just as tight, pressing a kiss to her hair before rocking her side-to-side. “I missed you, jaan,” he whispers. “How’s school?”

“It’s fine,” she says, tight-lipped as usual. Zayn rolls his eyes but doesn’t push her any further.

“What are you doing home? I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“Daddy put me on an earlier flight to surprise you.” Zayn resists rolling his eyes again. “I think he’s trying to apologize.”

“He could do a better apology if he didn’t use our daughter to do so.”

“The boys would be hopeless at prying for the reason for this latest fight,” Rosa says with a charming smile, dropping her purse on the hallway table and folding her glasses carefully before tucking them into one of the many pockets. Her t-shirt is a size too big and her jeans a size too tight as usual, her latest fashion phase like she is channeling Zayn when he was her age.

“Have you heard from Zak lately?” She shakes her head and Zayn forces a smile. “He always hated when your daddy and I would fight.” Zayn makes a mental note to check in with his oldest at the first chance- knows he took the separation hard. It’s been a few days, though, since Zak checked in with a text even and Zayn doesn’t like the silence. “Let’s go put on the tea. Are you staying for dinner?”

“I’m all yours tonight and tomorrow, baba,” she assures. “I’ve got plans the day after with Peggy but we want you to come with us- we’re going shopping for the wedding.”

“It’s in less than a week!” Zayn exclaims. “What’s left to buy?”

Rosa rolls her eyes again and Zayn bites his tongue on the reprimand that almost slips out. He can hardly hypocritically be upset with her for having his personality despite sharing no DNA with him. Instead, he slings an arm around her waist and leads her through the house and into the kitchen. “Peggy saw this hairdo she wants to do with the bridesmaids- a pearl, string, updo thing,” Rosa says, twisting her hands in the air to demonstrate what she means.

“And she wants me to come with?” he asks, warmth spreading in his chest. He had known that Peggy was a wonderful person the second he’d met her, then-twenty year old Taj bringing her home for dinner with a goofy smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, but he loves that she’s welcomed him into her life just as much as he has welcomed her into his. Five years into knowing her and she’s the sister Rosa never had, the second daughter he had never known he was missing, and the best fit for his son that Zayn could ever ask for.

“Yeah, she knows you’ve got an eye for things. Plus, she wants to write a groom’s note to Taj and wants our opinion on what to say.”

“He’s a bundle of nerves,” Zayn confides. He had just spoken to his middle child hours before, listening as the fast-talking boy had rambled on about his soon-to-be bride. “What kind of tea would you like?”

“I’d love some coffee.”

“Oh, good, you’ve become an American.”

“Like you don’t chug a Starbucks iced coffee the second it’s given to you.”

Zayn stays silent for a moment before heading to the cupboard and pulling out the coffee cups. “Dark or medium roast?”

Rosa grins, looking so much like Harry it makes Zayn’s heart skip a beat. “Surprise me,” she says, hopping up on one of the bar stools surrounding the kitchen island. Zayn putters with the Keurig for a moment, refilling the water and discarding the last pod from… he doesn’t entirely remember. It’s quiet in the kitchen, a calm settling in Zayn’s bones the way it does whenever one of his children comes home. “Daddy misses you,” Rosa says after a minute, never one to let a quiet moment linger.

Zayn sighs.

“It’s been so long, now,” she presses on. “Can’t you just forgive him for whatever he did and get back together again?”

“Rosa…”

“No, don’t say it isn’t any of my business,” she interrupts. “My parents are fighting and no one will tell me why.”

“It really isn’t your business, though,” Zayn says calmly, turning as the first mug pours and leveling his daughter a serious look. “You and your brothers are grown up and reasonably well-adjusted; your father and I have done our jobs.”

“So well-adjusted that Zak hasn’t spoken to daddy in almost a month.”

“What?” Zayn asks, startled.

“He called daddy when he got home on leave and told him to make it right with you or he wouldn’t be calling again. He’s on your side, baba,” she explains, slipping her mobile from her pocket and glancing at it disinterestedly. “He told daddy that he wasn’t going to talk to him until he fixed it.”

“That’s terrible. I’m going to have a talk with him. I don’t want you kids ever taking anyone’s side- we’re both firmly on yours guys’ sides, one hundred percent. We never try to put you in the middle.”

“I know that, baba,” she says quietly. “We all do. But this is the longest you guys have ever fought. It’s been almost six months. Are you guys getting a divorce?”

Zayn grinds his back teeth, a pulse point in his cheek jumping. “We haven’t discussed that,” he answers honestly. “We’re holding off any major decisions until after your brother’s wedding.”

Lifting a hand, Rosa wipes a tear from her lashline.

“Jaan, I don’t want to upset you,” Zayn says, grabbing her mug and crossing the kitchen to set it in front of her and wrap her up in another hug. “You’ve got school and your own life to focus on. Your daddy and I will be fine, I promise.”

“You just love each other so much, why doesn’t it work?” she asks, letting him hold her another moment though her tears don’t fall. The amount of control she’s always had on her emotions is amazing to Zayn- she definitely didn’t learn it from either of her parents, who have always been hot headed.

“It worked for a really long time and it might work again. Daddy and I just need… space right now.”

She takes a deep breath and then smiles when Zayn pulls back. “I’m sorry- think I’m jetlagged,” she excuses herself. “Can we watch a movie so I can fall asleep?”

Zayn heads back over to the coffee machine, placing a second mug and replacing the pod with a new blend. “There are some new choices in the front room. Take a look at what’s there and pick something.”

“Do you have _Toy Story_?” she asks, though she’s already up and leaving with her coffee in hand.

“That came out thirty plus years before you were born,” Zayn calls out. “I can never believe how much you and your brothers love that movie.”

“It’s a classic,” she calls back and Zayn hears the sound of her kicking her shoes off before she jumps onto the sofa. He smiles and shakes his head, waiting for his coffee to finish pouring before grabbing it. He makes to follow his daughter but he remembers the used pod and pulls it from the coffee machine and discards it in the bin before he forgets.

The movie is queued up by the time Zayn settles down next to Rosa, pulling a blanket from the back of the couch to drape over their laps. She rests her head on Zayn’s shoulder between sips of her coffee as the movie starts.

“I love your daddy very much and I miss him, too,” Zayn says in a whisper. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we need this time apart, right now.”

“I wish I could see the future,” Rosa says. “I want to know if this is going to be our lives from here on.”

_Me, too_ Zayn thinks to himself before settling further into his seat and paying attention to the movie he’s seen a thousand times before.

 

 

Spending the day with his girls in London is more fun than Zayn expected. There’s one paparazzi who spots him as they’re leaving a wine shop in Primrose Hill after Peggy decides she wants to find Taj a bottle of his favorite red as his groom’s gift. They had picked up the pearl chains earlier, Zayn recommending a particular design based on how it would match the detailing of Peggy’s dress perfectly. The pap is somewhat expected- happens with Zayn occasionally- but reasonably respectful. Zayn notices him a little late so he’s probably already gotten enough pictures of him and the girls that will undoubtedly run with a caption regarding last minute wedding prep.

The press haven’t cottoned on to his and Harry’s separation yet besides a one-off piece in _TMZ_ about how much time Harry has been spending in LA, but it was easy enough to explain that Harry was there to record and be near Rosa while Zayn stayed back in London to help Taj and Peggy plan their wedding. Zayn would like to keep the news as close as possible, anyway. Even their parents don’t know the extent of the separation.

“Getting excited for the wedding?” the pap calls out.

Zayn smiles but doesn’t respond.

“Girls, girls, tell me about the wedding. Where’s it going to be?”

Peggy and Rosa link arms and ignore him, heading to the car like Zayn taught them. The paparazzi doesn’t care for their lack of response but some teen dream heartthrob comes out of a bookstore two doors down from them and the pap loses interest.

“That’s annoying. I can’t believe you and Harry have to go through that all the time,” Peggy says once they’re buckling up in the car.

“It used to be really bad, didn’t it, baba?” Rosa pipes up, stowing the bags in the passenger seat before sliding in the back. “Daddy’s told us so many stories about you guys getting mobbed at airports.”

“It’s calmed down,” Zayn agrees, checking his mirrors before pulling out of his space. The drive out of the city is quiet, the girls whispering in the back while Zayn hums along to the radio. They’re nearly to their house when a familiar rift plays over the speakers.

“Don’t you dare turn it off!” Rosa shouts just as Zayn makes to press the scanner.

“Rosie, c’mon,” he begs but it’s too late: her and Peggy are already shouting the opening lines of _What Makes You Beautiful_. It’s a bit of fun torture, Zayn concedes, harmonizing with them on the chorus as they turn into the driveway. They don’t leave the car until the song is finished, though, the three of them smiling hard enough to hurt their cheeks.

“Rosa, will you grab the post? I’ve got to let the dogs out.”

“Got it,” she confirms as Zayn takes the majority of the bags and heads inside.

Page and Scarlett are wagging their tails and jumping around in excitement, their nails clipping the hardwood floors as Zayn fights his way past them to open the back sliding door for them to run outside, chasing each other around and burning off some energy. He hears the front door open and close as he sets the bags on the counter.

“Anything important?” he asks.

“A couple pieces of junk mail, some wedding RSVP- it’s in three days, people, what even- and a letter. Looks a little beat up, though.”

Zayn takes what she hands him distractedly. He tosses the junk post in the recycling and studies the envelope, noting the yellowing of the corners and the battered edges. It looks more than a _little_ beat up. He lifts a thigh and eases onto a barstool, elbows on the counter while the girls unpack around him. They’re chattering about weddings plans and how they’ll practice doing their hair but Zayn tunes them out and focuses on what’s in his hands.

The letter isn’t addressed to anyone by name, just the house number and no return address. The letters are a little smudged but the handwriting looks familiar. Puzzled, Zayn breaks the seal and pulls out a single sheet of notebook paper, more of the familiar scrawl filling the lines.

“Oh my god,” he says under his breath. He touches the messy swish of the ‘Z’ in his name with his pointer finger as he reads a letter he never thought he’d see.

_Zayn,_

_I know you probably hate me right now. I ~~was~~ am an arrogant prick and I cannot believe the things I said to you. I spent hours waiting in the aeroport for you to come running after me like we’re living in some romantic comedy before I realised I hadn’t made myself the hero anyone would root for. I want to be that, though; I want to be someone you root for._

_I lashed out at you and at your nursery because I’m a selfish, spoiled man and I don’t deserve your forgiveness but… (at the risk of being called dramatic) I won’t survive without it. I love you. I love you I love you I love you. In every moment of my day, that is the only thing that is true for me. I change my mind with everything else but you’re my constant, Zayn._

_If you hate me, then I promise you: I hate me more. I hate me and your mum would hate me if we told her and my mum would hate me twice over. I promised them both we would take care of each other and I let you down. If you let me, though, I will do anything to prove myself to you. I’ll sell my house in LA, I promise. I want to be with you and I don’t care what that means. I will do anything to show you how much I love you and how much I respect you. You’re my number one priority._

_Please don’t let this be it for us. I’ve spent hours on this flight looking for the right thing to say and nothing works the way I wanted it to but, please, call me when you get this. I have so much more to say to you and I want you to be able to talk to me, too. I want to listen better, I want to hear you._

_Always yours,_

_Harry_

Zayn reads the letter once and then wipes his eyes so he can read it again. The shaky handwriting and smudges along the ink tell of Harry’s tears and, even though the words were written over thirty-five years ago, Zayn feels guilt wrack his bones from the pain Harry- his Harry- had been in. Harry had been wrong at the time but Zayn had been, too.

“Baba? What’s wrong?”

Rosa’s words startle him out of his memories, Zayn pressing the letter to his chest when she cranes her neck to look it over.

“Is someone hurt? What is it?”

He realises how he looks, fat teardrops falling to his cheeks and his nose probably bright red. He shakes his head, sniffling and clearing his throat. “No one is hurt, Rosa. I’m okay. This is just…” he holds the letter out, flattening it against the worktop. “This is the letter your daddy wrote me before you and your brothers were born.”

“ _The_ letter?” she asks, eyes wide.

“What’s the letter?” Peggy asks, hopping up on the counter and glancing over. She’s got a glass of red wine in her hands and both Zayn and Rosa make hand motions shooing her away. “What?” she asks, placing the glass on her opposite side.

“Daddy and baba got in a huge fight and daddy left for LA one night. He wrote a letter apologizing for the fight and begging baba to take him back and he put it in the post.”

“Okay?” Peggy asks, brow raised as she lifts her glass. Seeing the look of horror on their faces, she leans dramatically away from the letter to sip before carefully placing it down again. “Tell me more.”

“The letter never came and I didn’t know anything about it,” Zayn says softly. “Harry waited for me to call him for months before deciding that his letter hadn’t been enough. He spent the next few years convinced I had read his letter and rejected him- watched me date other people and come out in the press and live my life, all the while thinking I had moved on.”

“Shit,” Peggy breathes, hopping off the counter and moving her wine glass even further away. “Okay, most important letter ever. And, what? It just shows up today? How long have you known about it?”

“Five years after he sent it off, we went to a wedding and ran into each other. He mentioned it, thinking I had read it of course, and… when we realised I had never gotten his letter, it was like everything changed. I realised how stupid and stubborn I had been and how I had been missing out on the best…” Zayn sighs, dawning realization hitting him once again. “The best person in my life,” he finishes. He looks at Rosa, a small smile on his lips. “Rosie, I’ve been a complete prat to your daddy.”

She squeals and hugs him, her arms tight around his shoulders.

“Are you going to call him?” Peggy asks, perusing the letter.

“No,” Zayn says.

“Baba!” Rosa reprimands but Zayn laughs.

“Sakoon, jaan,” Zayn says, raising a hand before she gets worked up. “I need to think about what I’m going to say and then I’ll see him for the wedding.”

“We’ll help you do something special for Harry,” Peggy promises, her face lit up with excitement.

“I’m not doing anything big,” Zayn protests. “You can help me with a couple of things, though. Hold on,” he says, feeling his mobile vibrate in his pocket. He smiles when he sees the display. “Beta, finally,” he answers. “How are you? You alright?”

Zak’s voice is small and tired when he answers but it’s the first time Zayn’s actually heard it in almost a month so he doesn’t mind. “Salaam, baba. Sorry that I didn’t call.”

“Come over, come here. Rosa’s at home and Taj will be here tomorrow. Just missing you.”

“I can’t come over just yet.”

“Where are you? I’ll just come to you.”

“No, baba. Hold on. Meri baat suno, listen to me. There was an accident.”

“What?” Zayn feels his chest grow cold as if his heart has just ceased to beat. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m okay, everyone is okay. It wasn’t me; it was daddy. He had a fall getting off the plane.”

“I don’t understand!” Zayn says, realising his words have come out as a shout when Rosa and Peggy look over to him in concern. “What plane? Where is he? Are you with him?”

“Baba, what’s wrong?” Rosa asks.

“He’s fine- he’s being treated and I’m here with him. He doesn’t know if I’m bringing him home or to a hotel.”

“Rosa, get your keys, I don’t know where mine are.”

“They’re in your hand, baba. What’s wrong?”

“Don’t come up here- they’re going to release him soon.”

“I don’t… everyone stop talking for a second!” Zayn snaps. He takes a deep breath. “Zakaari: are you with your father?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“At a medical center at the airport.”

“I’m coming there. Rosa: will you drive?”

“Baba, we’re honestly getting ready to leave,” Zak says as his sister nods her head and makes to take the keys from Zayn. “Dad just needs to know if he’s welcome home.”

“He’s a stupid fool; of course he is. You’re bringing him home? He’s okay?”

“He’s fine. He’s flirting with the nurses right now. They’re charmed, of course.”

“I’m sure they are,” Zayn says drily. “Bring him home, then. Be careful, beta.”

“I will, baba. We’ll be there soon.”

“Bye, love you.”

“Love you.”

“Baba, what’s wrong? Is Zak hurt?” Rosa asks, face pale but set as if she is stubbornly preparing herself for bad news.

“No, jaan, Zak is fine. Your dad was on a flight here and took a fall. I don’t know what happened but Zakaari says he’s okay and they’re on their way here, now.”

Peggy wraps her arm around Rosa’s waist, giving her a friendly cuddle.

“I’m already calling T,” she says as she pulls her phone from her back pocket. “He’s working but should be able to leave.”

“He just said there was an accident. How would he have even known? Unless he was with Harry,” Zayn mutters, feeling stressed and irritated and concerned. “I didn’t even know Zak was home. Did you know?”

“He had leave just for the wedding, I thought,” Rosa says. “I didn’t know. Maybe daddy did it as a surprise?”

“Your father and these fucking surprises.”

“Why don’t you go sit down and Peg and I will get some late lunch started. The boys’re bound to be hungry when they get home.”

“I can help,” Zayn protests, though he can already feel the weight of the day taking its toll on his bones. Maybe sitting down for a second wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He takes Harry’s letter and folds it up carefully, sticking it in his pocket.

“We’ve got it covered,” Peggy assures him, leaving Rosa to approach Zayn. She puts her hands on Zayn’s shoulders and urges him to turn around. “Go sit, watch some telly or whatever you pensioners do in the middle of the day.”

“Oi, not quite that old, am I?”

Peggy laughs and gives him a nudge. “Go!”

Zayn finally listens. He double-checks that he’s still got his mobile in his hand before he heads down the hallway to his studio room. Though he still sometimes likes to pretend he’s a graffiti artist tagging up the walls, he hasn’t felt inspiration strike recently and the room is completely painted over white. There are several easels set up in the corners, one with a half-done sketch of something he’d like to gift his son as a wedding gift but he had been blocked and nothing would be completed in time. He crosses over to that one, carefully flipping the page of his sketchpad before sitting on his stool and grabbing a coloured pencil at random.

Art in any form has always been a calming influence on Zayn but there’s something soothing about sitting back and holding a pencil in his hand, fist on the paper as he drags bursts of red across the page in the shape of a sun. Sticking with his need to randomise the colours, not letting himself think about his husband in the hospital, he picks each pencil without looking and makes scratches on the page in turn. Blue means ocean so he sketches in small waves just under the sun, cutting the horizon directly across the center of his page. Green follows and must be algae and other sea junk so Zayn shades in the deepest parts of the water. Brown is a flock of birds, black is a small boat, blue again is a cloud in the sky and orange is the sun’s rays.

Zayn isn’t thinking of what he’s doing or how much time is passing. He’s focusing on drawing just for the sake of it, not contemplating how it will turn out or if it will be any good. He’s just… creating. He needs to be doing _something_ so this is what he’s chosen.

For all that he’s zoning out, the key turning in the front door still has him jumping to his feet instantly and walking briskly to the foyer.

“You dumb, arrogant, stupid arsehole,” Zayn shouts, ignoring the smile on Harry’s face before crashing into him and wrapping his arms tight around his neck.

“Oof.”

“I could fucking kill you myself,” Zayn says, burying his face in his husband’s neck and breathing in his scent- thirteen hour flight mixed with yesterday’s cologne and a bit of something that reminds him of the sterility in a hospital.

“I’m fine,” Harry says, bringing his own arms up and around Zayn’s waist. “I’m completely fine.”

“I was so scared when Zak said accident. I… I can’t lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, lovely,” Harry says, finally pulling back so he can push Zayn’s fringe out of his eyes.

One of Harry’s fingers nudges the top of his cheek where tears are collecting and Zayn rolls his eyes at the fact that he’s crying. He sniffles and holds tight to Harry again, resting his forehead on Harry’s shoulder.

He feels Rosa come up behind them, her long arms wrapping around her daddy from behind and touching at Zayn’s shoulders. Harry twists a hand behind him to hold onto her and Zayn reaches out an arm when he sees Zak walk through the door.

“C’mere, beta,” Zayn calls out, smiling when Zak rolls his eyes. His son’s expression is still fond, though, and he folds himself into the group cuddle.

“He just had a little fall,” Zak protests but Zayn doesn’t miss the way his free hand is clutched in the fabric of Harry’s t-shirt, knuckles white as if he’s clinging for dear life.

“We’re missing someone,” Zayn says, unraveling his limbs from the pile and looking around.

“Taj is on his way. He should be here any second,” Peggy says from the doorway into the foyer.

“No, you,” Zayn demands, beckoning her with a hand motion. “You’re family, get over here.”

Blushing and shaking her head, she does as instructed and pushes in next to Zak. Harry’s turned in Zayn’s hold, hugging Rosa to his chest and whispering back-and-forth with her in a soft, gentle voice. Zayn hears him say _I’m fine_.

“I would say this is the weirdest thing I’ve seen in this house but that would probably be a lie.”

“Get in on the cuddle, man,” Zak says, words half-lost in his father’s hair.

“It’s probably not going to end until you do,” Rosa agrees.

Taj shrugs and launches himself into the pile, knocking everyone a few steps to the side. He gives a great big bear hug- the littlest of the siblings but the best with cuddles- but he only stays still for seconds at a time so it’s no surprise that he’s soon piping up to ask, “So… how do we end this?”

“I think we just… stop,” Rosa says, squeezing harder for a second.

“Like, on three?”

“One, two, three go or one, two, three?”

“One, two, three go,” Harry says.

“One,” Zayn starts.

“Two,” Peggy says.

“Three,” Rosa adds.

“Go,” Harry whispers after a pause, the six of them breaking apart and taking a few steps back.

“That was weird but felt nice,” Taj says, beaming and looking around. He flushes when he makes eye contact with Peggy. “Hi, love,” he says, leaning over to give her a kiss. “Let’s figure out what happened with dad, then, yeah?”

“I just took a fall,” Harry protests, though he starts to go willingly when Rosa pushes him towards the back garden.

“We’ve got lunch coming up in a minute, anyway,” she says. “Let’s eat and have a chat.”

“I feel like this is an intervention.” Harry makes it only a few steps before he’s turning around and holding a hand out for Zayn. Zayn grins and follows, linking their fingers together between them. “I missed you,” Harry says in a low voice as they walk out the back sliding door and settle around the garden table. The kids have all stayed inside- Zak will most likely shower before coming out to eat, the girls will be giving the two of them space and also finishing the food, and Taj will be following Peggy like a stray duckling as usual- and Zayn pulls Harry closer for a better hello.

Harry’s mouth is a little stale from the plane but there’s a mask of spearmint over the taste and, honestly, Zayn wouldn’t care anyway. He fists a hand through Harry’s unruly curls- grown out too long again and looking a little limp from his long day- and bites at Harry’s bottom lip. “Don’t do that shit, again,” Zayn orders.

“What? Fall or leave?” Harry asks against his mouth, shifting to the edge of his chair and getting his hands on Zayn’s jaw to tilt his head back and deepen the kiss. Zayn pinches his neck with his free hand and Harry pulls back to laugh. “Neither, okay. I promise. I won’t do either again.”

“How did Zak even know?”

Harry flushes with guilt.

“What did you do?”

“You hadn’t been talking to me!”

“Harry Malik…”

“I made Zak my emergency contact in my phone and my wallet.”

Zayn pulls away from his embrace, rolling his eyes. “You’re such a dramatic arsehole.”

“I didn’t know if you’d leave me to die somewhere if they called you!”

Zayn’s instantly irritated again. “Don’t say something stupid like that.”

Harry frowns. “I was pissed and I just updated a couple things. I didn’t think you would know- I didn’t think anyone would need to be called. I’m sorry for it and for worrying you.”

Zayn sighs and leans back in for a quick kiss. “I know you didn’t,” he allows. “But change it all back.”

“Do I get some sympathy if I remind you that I’m injured?” Zayn glares. “No? Okay, it was worth a shot. I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry for everything.”

“No, don’t,” Zayn stops him, one hand to Harry’s chest. “Your letter was in the post today.”

Harry’s brows furrow. “My letter?” he asks before dawning realization crosses his face. “My letter came?”

“I read it, I had it in my hands and I read every word you wrote and it just reminded me of all we’ve been through and how stupid, how so very stupid it is to be fighting again. If anyone should know better than to waste time, it’s us.”

“Can I see it? I almost can’t even believe I really wrote it, it was missing for so long.”

Zayn pulls it out and unfolds it for Harry to see, passing it over when his husband extends a hand. Harry’s smile grows larger and larger as he reads it, scanning the words once and then once again. “God, I was a completely dramatic tit.”

“Still are.”

Harry grins at him, the young lad Zayn fell for a thousand years ago showing through the wrinkles around his eyes and the grays flecked throughout his hair. “Still in love with you, though. So very much. Can we be friends again?”

Zayn sighs and brushes Harry’s fringe back from his face. “Oh, meri jaan,” he says. “My heart stopped when I heard you were in hospital. I’m not mad at you anymore.”

“Does that mean I get to come home?”

“If you think you’re leaving this house until the wedding, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Harry beams, dimpling deep into his cheek, and leans in for another kiss.

The sliding door opens on its track, squeaky and in need of oil. “Are you two done necking like teenagers out here?” Taj calls, a smile clear in his voice.

“You better still love me that much in thirty-five years,” Peggy tells him.

“Maybe without the dramatics,” Rosa says.

“You gonna give me another thirty-five years?” Zayn asks Harry. “I’ll probably never stop being this dumb but I’ll love you every, single day.”

Harry answers him with a final kiss, ignoring the gagging sounds of their children because, at the end of the day, dramatics run in the Maliks’ blood.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, my endings are weird and kind of abrupt but Jenny loves that about me (I hope) and will forgive.


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